Monday, March 10, 2008

March 10, 2008

Dear Prince of Candy,

I just saw your friend at the all-night diner in Hadley. You know, the schizophrenic who was talking to himself at Bart's Ice Cream and made you think he was threatening to kill a nice black lady, so you said, "Don't threaten anyone at Bart's" in a really angry voice and then he told you how he used to work in internal affairs and could smash your skull in and you said, "Get out of my face," and he eventually did and he went over to the ice cream handlers and asked them to call the police because he said you were threatening him with physical violence and they never bothered and we left after I finished my ice cream and hung out in your car for an hour because there was nowhere else to go.

I went into the diner and the asian host-guy started to lead me to my table and your friend was sitting in a table nearby talking to himself so I changed my mind and decided to eat at the counter to avoid feeling uncomfortable. So I was eating at the booth and feeling comfortable with a copy of Cormac McCarthy's The Road on the counter beside me when your friend approached me and began a conversation about Cormac McCarthy and books and I didn't think he was actually your friend because we were having a conversation about Cormac McCarthy and books instead of crazy shit, so I thought he might have been your friend's twin or something and I told him that I had read a little of Blood Meridian a few years ago and he told me that one of his favorite books was Alice Walker's Meridian and he went away after a few minutes and I finished my food and your friend was outside smoking and he asked me what my shoe size was and I told him, "Nine or ten," and he said, "I was just admiring your feet," and then I knew he was your friend and I wondered if he was being less crazy because he had remembered to take his medication and I left in my car.

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About Me

I wrote It Came from Below the Belt, My Heart Said No, But the Camera Crew Said Yes!, Sorry I Ruined Your Orgy, and Rico Slade Will Fucking Kill You. I edit a literary journal called Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens. I like cheese. I am lactose intolerant.